Chapter Text
“Melhor restaurante em Augusta, venha aqui!”
called the vendor next to them, trying to attract customers to his restaurant, which was one of dozens of identical establishments. Stores and shops resembling cardboard boxes lined the street, their bohemian colors brightening the area. Graffitis painted on the restaurant walls and in the alleyways brought the street to life. Melodies played by itinerant musicians on the pavements mingled with each other, bringing the crowded streets to life. The salty smell of the ocean and the stifling odor of city life gave the environment an unique fragrance. Exotic plants and animals could be seen all over the country. However, as with every tourist attraction in an exotic country, Brazil's tropical climate posed a challenge to visitors. Overwhelmed by the scorching heat, tourists would seek out water in the nearest shops. Those who came unprepared found themselves breathing through their mouths like thirsty dogs, trying to cool down in this unfamiliar environment due to the lack of equipment they had not thought to bring with them from their hotel rooms.
Unfortunately, there were two adults among these mindless tourists. Physically mature, they were once again questioning their mental age. They had taken enough money but one of them was looking clearly like a tourist. With his tall stature and sandy blonde hair, he looked like a con man's dream. That put their money in danger of being swindled. The pair's clothes were not helping either, they were neither casual nor ordinary. Their designer clothes were characterized by their 100% silk fabric. This kind of clothing was found in boutique stores on the main streets of summer resorts and was worn only by the elitist upper class. Judging by that blonde man's stature, which made him look like an electrical transmission tower, one could infer that he was of high status or a nobleman by birth.
He wore white silk and linen trousers and a navy blue silk shirt. Wrapped around his left arm was a beige leather watch worth almost as much as the combined annual income of three shops. His hair appeared to have been carefully combed back, but the strands sticking out from the sides of the sunglasses perched on top of his head showed that this effort had been made in haste. The shorter man standing next to him was wearing a similar outfit. He wore beige silk and linen trousers with a short brown leather belt. He wore a white silk shirt to match the outfit of the man next to him. However, his shirt was slightly wrinkled and came out from the sides of the belt. His skin was darker than that of the man next to him. He didn't appear to be sunburnt, rather his bronze skin shone in the sun like a freshly groomed horse's fur. Of East Asian ethnicity, he was the physical opposite of the man beside him. Their differences in height, hair color and skin tone made them look like complete opposites: tall and short, blond and black-haired, white and tanned, blue-eyed and brown-eyed. They were the centre of attention among the crowds of tourists on São Paulo's Augusta Street.
Local shopkeepers were trying to figure out how to milk money from the tourists with the start of the summer season. Prices were inflated, fake smiles were plastered on faces, counterfeit goods were displayed on stalls and Brazilian-themed souvenirs were hung on ornate, swirling fences. All they had to do was behave properly. The two of them had attracted the attention of the shopkeepers. The shopkeepers tried to approach them, shouting to get their attention. What the shopkeepers didn't know was that the two men were very experienced in such matters. They could compete with the shopkeepers in cunning and brazenness, and they were aware of the swarm of swindlers surrounding them. However, they had forgotten to bring water and hats because of an argument they had had that morning, the kind that only a long-married couple could have.
The fight had also been sparked by the scorching heat. The dark-haired man said he didn't need sunscreen because he already had dark skin, and the hat would be enough. The blonde man said the dark-haired man was wrong and that the sun would turn everyone, regardless of skin color, into a walking barbecue. What started as a minor disagreement, due to the nature of their relationship, escalated into bickering and then a full-blown argument. The brunette accused the blonde of overreacting, while the blonde complained that the brunette had no regard for his own needs. The 45-minute argument resulted in them forgetting the hats and water they had intended to buy. Now feeling as depressed as if their internal organs were being fried in a deep fryer, the two of them gave dirty looks to the shopkeepers on the street corner who were looking at them. After walking for 12 minutes, the blonde man couldn't stand it any longer and looked down at the other.
“Joo?” Joo did not answer, deliberately ignoring him and still feeling justified about the morning’s argument.
“Taekjoo?” the blonde called out again, not caring about Taekjoo's feelings. He was stubborn to break Joo’s silence.
“Hey, Taekjoo?” The blonde poked Taekjoo with his finger and called his name.
“Taekjoo, come on.”
“...”
“You know you're acting childish.” There was silence for a short time.
“I'm still right about the argument.”
“…shut up”
“Don't cry just because I'm right.”
“Shut up!”
“Getting angry won't change anything.”
“Zhenya, enough!” exploded Taekjoo, hitting Zhenya's poking finger hard.
“Uh-oh, very wrong move!” sneers Zhenya, moving closer to Taekjoo. If it weren't for the summer heat, the Russian would have been cozying up to Taekjoo; so he made up for his addiction to contact by violating Taekjoo’s personal space. Taekjoo punched the blonde in the stomach with his right hook and looked angrily at Zhenya.
“I don't want to hear anything about this morning’s argument, because you made us forget everything!”
“As if it's all my fault my Zainka, who did I fight with?”
“We would both be so content if you agreed with me, but you can't because you, a little prince will ruin everything if your orders won’t be done!”
“…I don't think I'm so little.”
Taekjoo groaned angrily. Zhenya felt like he didn't care what he said. Although this holiday was intended as an escape from the Russian government, it was also an opportunity to strengthen their relationship. As he inwardly muttered that it wasn't working, the hot sun's rays stabbed his body like arrows. Blinded by the heat, Taekjoo put his anger towards his lover to one side for the time being. The exotic summer heat was more important right now.
“It's so hot; the sun is right overhead,” he muttered to himself.
“Oh you don’t say?” Zhenya replied, half-mocking him and glanced at the shops next door.
“Let's sit down somewhere, Taekjoo. We can go to the museum you want later.” Zhenya said, noticing some of the the malicious shopkeepers eyeing them. Just as the brunette was about to object, he felt the heatwave penetrate his brain again. The thirst and stress from the morning’s argument were making him feel nauseous. Understanding what the blonde was saying a little better, Taekjoo looked at Zhenya, whose face was sweating from the heat just like his, and gestured to the nearest café. Seeing the tired look on his lover's face, Zhenya suddenly felt pity. Maybe he had been a little too hard on him. Realizing that he was no better than him, Zhenya started walking towards the café that Taekjoo has pointed to. No matter how hot it is, the Russian, holding the hand of the brunette beside him, starts walking quickly, striding out with his long legs. Taekjoo, tugged halfway behind him, remained silent due to his fatigue and Zhenya's constant insistence on physical contact.
As soon as the pair reached their destination, they were mobbed by waiters expecting wealthy customers. They tried to point out empty tables to them in broken English. A couple with two children were sitting at the next table looked at the pair with displeasure; they have been waiting a long time for their order to be taken. The older child, aged 11, was a classic iPad kid. Despite her mother's nagging, she had retreated to the far corner of the table and was watching game videos on YouTube. Her father was secretly watching too, even though he told the girl to leave it alone. The eight-year-old girl ,whose the little one, was talking loudly to his mother. This American tourist family was annoyed by the café, which was different from the American-style restaurants they were used to. The two of them pushed their way through the group of waiters and sat down at a small, empty table. The table was next to the American family. As soon as the pair are seated, the waiters tried to bring them menus, while the family, tired of waiting, tapped a waiter on the back and tried to place their order. At first, the waiter ignored them, but he eventually gave in to the family's fuss and took their order. The couple, who had decided to order two bottles of water, wanted to get rid of the waiters.
“We'll order the rest later,” said Taekjoo, annoyed by the noise of the waiters and the beating sun. Realized this, the blonde man started giving threatening looks to the waiters swarming around them. They were testing his patience. If they didn't understand polite words, he would have to be tougher. Turned to the nearest waiter, the Russian man stood up. At over two metres tall, the waiter flinched when he saw the man looming over him. He looked at him as though he was going to eat him.
“We’ll tell you later,” says Zhenya, waiting for an answer from the waiter he was looking down on. “Yes, sir! Of course we wait. Don't!” the waiter shouted in unintelligible English. In the blink of an eye, the waiters disappeared, leaving the pair alone. Glancing at his lover, who was still standing, Taekjoo told him to sit down.
“Hey bastard, don’t show yourself here!”
“I don't teach how to treat a customer.”
“Nobody wants you to teach.” Taekjoo looked like he was still reeling from the morning’s argument. Zhenya couldn't resist taking a bottle of cold water and finishing it in record time. He grabbed a second bottle and handed it to the brunette.
“Come on Taekjoo, don't be so mad. Drink some water,” he said, nudging Taekjoo with the cap. The Korean, on the other hand, felt strange. He knew he was very resilient because of the work he had done before he quit. He had served in extreme conditions, participated in dozens of operations with his boyfriend, and even tried dangerous sports as a fun bonding activity. But today, his body just didn't feel right. It was either the scorching heat and stress of the morning, or he was getting old. The last thought sent a shiver through Taekjoo. Despite joking that Zhenya was just a baby, he was feeling like he was getting old. Perhaps his body had become even more fragile after decades of torment. His thoughts were interrupted by Zhenya tapping the lid of the water to his shoulder.
“Oh yes…thank you.” Taekjoo opened the lid and started drinking. With each sip, he felt himself starting to feel a little better. Maybe he was just dehydrated. Zhenya was giving him strange looks. Had something happened today? No, nothing had happened; they had been traveling the world for a year, and everything had been running smoothly. The Kremlin was dead; his brother, Bazim, was now in charge of Russia, and no one was making any noise about the assassination. Bazim hadn't issued a search warrant for them and hadn't bothered them since their last phone call in America. Taekjoo was no longer an agent either. He hadn't retired; he was simply registered as dead. There were no demoralizing factors and any would have been easily dealt with. So why was his Zainka acting so strangely? His gaze wasn't as sharp as he remembered, or had something happened to Little Woman?
“How is Little Woman?” Zhenya blurted out. Taekjoo glared at the Russian.
“She's fine. Why?”
“…”
“Didn't we talk to her yesterday?” Yes, they had spoken to Little Woman yesterday. His mother usually preferred to call Zhenya because Taekjoo was still in the habit of keeping his phone on silent. The Little Woman was very excited when she received photos from the lovers. She told them to text her what they were up to, made sure they had the necessary holiday equipment and took lots of photos. To be honest, even Zhenya suspected that the Little Woman knew about their relationship. He quickly dismissed this idea. However, even when Taekjoo was answering questions, his gaze suggested otherwise.
“You say that, but your gaze tells me the other way,” Zhenya said. Taekjoo took offense.
“How am I looking at you? I'm looking at you normally! Are you trying to tell my gaze looks old?” Taekjoo snapped. The family at the next table had had enough and started grumbling.
“What rude pricks!”
“…”
“They’re so ill-mannered,” the mother complained, glancing at the next table. The father looked up from the iPad in her kid’s hand and tried to comfort her.
“Darling, they could be some businessmen.” However, he was more intimidated by the Russian man than defending the pair. Having worked for men like this before, the father knew that they didn't listen to any rules. He looked like the type of person who would bomb anything up to get their own way.
“Ed, but look! It's as if they own the whole café!”
“Never mind, Meg. Here comes our food.” The waiter took their orders and put the traditional Feijoada Carioca that Eddie and Megan had chosen, as well as the cheeseburgers, on the table, since the little kids were picky eaters. The waiter at the next table asked Taekjoo again in his broken English.
“Sir, I take your order?” He gave Zhenya a timid look and waited for the duo’s answer. The blonde man met the waiter's gaze with a steely expression. Taekjoo realized the question after two seconds; guess he'd had a lot of sun.
“Yes, I'll have a Bolinho de Bacalhau and my partner...”
“The same.”
“The same one, thank you.” Taekjoo realizes that Zhenya hasn't asked what he’s having. Of course, the blonde might have been too focused on himself to look at the menu. Still, he usually asked his partner what they were going to eat, because if he was torn between two choices, one of them would get one option and the other gets the second, so they could taste both dishes. This small act of kindness might seem insignificant to some, but whenever Zhenya did it, Taekjoo would feel his ears turn red. Taekjoo turned to Zhenya and gave him a questioning look.
“Are you sure you want to eat this?” Zhenya remained silent, still looking at the brunette curiously. Taekjoo became angry.
“Hey! I asked if you're sure because if you don’t eat it, it’ll become wasted food.”
“…”
“Are you OK, Taekjoo?” and with this question Taekjoo became furious. Zhenya didn’t listen to him! If he didn’t eat it, their money and the food would both be wasted. But just because Zhenya had money didn’t mean he can spend it unnecessarily
— he wouldn’t allow it! Besides, the food wasn't to Zhenya's taste anyway. He didn’t even like street food. Some people said it tasted like fishcake. But it didn’t look anything like a fishcake! For a start, fish cakes were rectangular, but these ones were round. Just because it contained fish didn’t mean it's a similar dish! It looked more like a Japanese dish. What was it called? Taykayeki, Taykoyaki, Tokayaki, Takaya-
“kjoo hey, Taekjoo!” Zhenya shouted anxiously. Taekjoo came to his senses. Zhenya had one hand on the brunette's cheek and the other on his shoulder, rocking him gently. The worry in his eyes was evident. Taekjoo felt uneasy and nauseous. He wanted to tell Zhenya to stop, but his tongue felt like cotton dipped in water. His hands were numb, he tried to grab Zhenya's hand on his shoulder, but it felt as though he is casting a fishing line. He started to panic, what's going on? Zhenya started tapping Taekjoo's cheek lightly, and then harder and harder. Taekjoo's face started to turn very pale.
“Taekjoo! Taekjoo!” Zhenya went from shouting to downright screaming. Megan, was sitting at the next table, payed attention to the screaming blonde and saw the brunette.
“Ed, what's going on?” Returning to the table with his wife, Ed saw the situation and called out to the waiters next door.
“Hey waiter, Waiter! Hey Come here!” When the waiters noticed the commotion in the back right corner of the café, they gathered there. Meanwhile, Taekjoo, who was trying to stop Zhenya from shaking him, suddenly had a black veil over his eyes. His vision blurred and his left arm, which he was trying to move, fell.
“Taekjoo?” There was a millisecond of silence. Taekjoo’s body suddenly began to spasm and he fell from his seat to the side. Zhenya appeared next to him at lightning speed and caught him before he hit the ground. The waiters started to say something in Portuguese and one of them hurriedly pulled out his mobile phone and called an ambulance. Ed grabbed his older child's arm and pulled her behind him, not wanting her to witness the scene. The little girl screamed when he saw the brunette fall to the floor, and then started crying loudly.
“Mummy!”
“OK, sweetie. Come on, get over here with Mary.” The little girl ran over to her older sister, Mary. Amidst all this chaos, Zhenya could only focus on his beloved. Time was running out.
The brunette’s hands and feet were shaking, and only the whites of his eyes were visible. Zhenya maneuvered Taekjoo to his side. He could feel his own hands trembling. Nothing made sense, but he wasn't in the right frame of mind to think about that.
“Taekjoo, please” Zhenya pleaded, grabbing the man next to him by the ankle, lowering him down whose calling for an ambulance in Portuguese. The waiter landed on his buttocks with superhuman strength and let out a tiny scream. Zhenya took his phone and started talking to the ambulance crew in English, keeping his voice as serious as possible.
“33-year-old male, 183 cm tall, 73 kg, has been having an epileptic seizure for one minute and seventeen seconds. Our location is São Paulo, Augusta Street, Café da...” Counting every second that passed, the Russian felt sweat beading on his forehead. Time was running out.
He threw the phone at the man, who was rubbing his thigh on the floor, and shielded Taekjoo's body again. He didn't want anyone looking at him or making a sound; he didn't want anyone to be there. All he wanted was to be alone with Taekjoo, to enjoy the view and make love by the fireplace on Ajinoki Island, with a fur coat on and a cigar in his mouth and a whisky in their hand. Was that too much to ask? With each passing second that the ambulance didn't arrive, his desperation grew. He tried to recall the emergency information. How many minutes after the onset of seizures did they become serious? There had to be something he could do. Time was running out.
Taekjoo was still shaking and his eyes had rolled back into his head. He noticed the anxious crowd of people at his feet. The last shred of patience he had left vanished in an instant.
“Get back!” roared Zhenya. He wasn't sure if he had said it in English, but the crowd was now completely unable to get near this monster-like man. Time was running out.
…After two minutes and 28 seconds, Taekjoo stopped shaking. His body sagged as though its strings had been cut. A small breath escaped from his mouth.
“Oh my God!”
“It's stopped!”
“Thank God!”
“Is the seizure over?”
“Mum, it's stopped!”
“Where's the ambulance?” The voices were coming from a crowd of people standing in a circle. But the blonde man at the centre of the circle could not hear any of them. Everything was flooding in his mind now.
Taekjoo had had a seizure. The last one had been at least a year ago, and he had regained all his memories. What was this for? What had happened in the last year? Had something traumatic happened? Zhenya had been very careful to ensure that Taekjoo did not develop any PTSD after his last seizure. What had he done wrong? All these questions were weighing on his mind as the adrenaline of the moment took hold. Zhenya realized that he was breathing irregularly. As he tried to steady himself, he looked at Taekjoo intently. His face was drenched in sweat, and he was pale. When he touched his forehead, he was relieved to find that he didn't have a fever. At that moment, the sound of an ambulance approaching from the next street echoed through the café. Some of the people in the crowd rushed out to direct it. The little girl standing in the circle stepped out of her older sister's arms and approached Zhenya.
“Lucy, come here!” her mother shouted. Lucy ignored her and poked the hem of Zhenya's shirt. Zhenya didn't turn around, but Lucy didn't care.
“Um sir, the ambulance is here. Don't be scared,” she said, trying to reassure Zhenya. The little girl tried to talk to Zhenya with childish confidence, but her mother took her by the hand and pulled her quickly to her side.
The ambulance took a sharp turn and stopped outside the restaurant. Two paramedics emerged from the back, carrying first aid equipment and a stretcher. They pushed their way through the crowd gathered around the patient and his relative, crouching down on the other side of him. One paramedic asked the patient's relative questions about him, while the other sticked the necessary medical equipment around patient’s chest. The patient is quickly loaded into the back of the ambulance, while their relative did not leave their side for a second. Once both were settled in the back of the ambulance, the paramedics performed the necessary procedures on the patient before setting off at full speed for the nearest hospital.
The patient was still in danger as long as he’s not in a hospital.